This is a tightly wound movie that will keep you thinking about coupls do for each other, how they lie about themselves and each other, and what the nature of intimate relationships is. It all started when she was a student and he a professor. He loved her writing and she thought he was brilliant, and thus they came together.
Long down the road from that era, now the wife (played to spectacular perfection by Glenn Close) thinks of everything: where her husband's glasses are, when it’s time to
take his pills, what he should eat for lunch. After more than thirty years
together, she anticipates the husband’s needs and meets them before
he even realizes he has them—and certainly long before she’d ever
consider tending to any needs of her own.
It’s an efficient if
unhealthy dynamic that’s kept their marriage going through two
kids and a grandkid on the way, through bouts of infidelity, through the
husband’s spectacular and longstanding literary success and up to his
crowning achievement: winning the Nobel Prize. There is a twist in all of this though, that comes to a peak in the midst of the celebrations, with a spectacular conclusion that leaves you mulling it over for days.
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